


El regalo de Chicharito

by eafay70



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:59:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9217883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eafay70/pseuds/eafay70
Summary: Chicharito is awoken by the reyes magos (three kings/magi) and asked to help deliver a special gift.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FechtarTheDragon (mariothellama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A very dragony, multi-cultural Christmas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8979847) by [FechtarTheDragon (mariothellama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/pseuds/FechtarTheDragon). 



> Enjoy my humble contribution to the multicultural festivities! <3
> 
> Today is Epiphany/Three Kings' Day, which is the traditional gift-giving day in various countries, including Mexico and other Spanish-speaking nations. Who better than Chicharito for a fic about the day? :)
> 
> I realize that "We Three Kings" doesn't make sense as a song for the Mexican iterations thereof to sing. But if you had a musical answer to the question "Who are you?", I bet you'd use it regardless of silly matters of language. XD

It was the night of January 5th in Germany. Three figures followed the scent of cake to their destination, where a very famous striker slept peacefully.

The first one to whisper was a man on a horse. "Chicharito..."

No answer.

Next to try was a man on a camel. "Javi..."

Still no answer.

A man on an elephant was last to try; in desperation, he used the striker's shirt number. _"Catorce..."_

Yet again, no answer.

They took a big breath collectively and proclaimed: "¡¡¡Javier Hernández Balcázar!!!"

It worked. _"Ay, mamá, lo siento, no lo hice, ya me desperté, déjame jugar-"_  
He then blinked a few times and said, "You're not my mother. Who are you?"

The reader has probably guessed the visitors' response:  
"We three kings of Orient are;  
Bearing gifts we traverse afar,  
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,  
Following yonder star."

Chicharito blinked a few more times. _"¿Melchor, Gaspar y Baltasar?"_ The kings nodded, impressed that he had named them in the order in which they had tried to awaken them. "I thought I left my shoes out for you, no?"

"You did - a little too close to the stairs, I might add," confirmed Melchor. "We're here because we have a gift that can't fit in a shoe, and you have to help us deliver it."

"I didn't even realize you delivered around here until after I moved," admitted Javi. "How do you track down the people who don't live in Mexico?"

"We get tips from other deities," explained Gaspar. "In your case, the Christkind gives us a list of people from Spanish-speaking countries."

"And this year, one of those people is a young boy named Felipe Francisco Miguel Alejandro Ignacio Delgado Rosales," said Baltasar. "Everyone calls him Fele, which helps keep everyone sane."

"His parents are Mexican diplomats who just moved to Germany," said Melchor. "When the Christkind stopped by their house last month, he found a letter from Fele asking for a Spanish-speaking friend. He's only six, so he can't keep in touch very easily with his old friends."

"I know the feeling," said Chicharito. "How can I help?"

"Be his friend, of course." Gaspar produced a piece of paper with an address written on it. "If his parents ask, you got this information from a fan letter, which in reality they sent to the wrong address."

"If you need additional motivation, he's also from Guadalajara," said Baltasar with a wink. "Good luck."

Before Javi could say anything, the three kings and their animals were gone.

~~~~~

The following morning, Javi woke up and checked his shiny shoes. Underneath were lollipops, bouncy balls, and other silly things. After putting everything away, he got dressed and drove to the address the magi had given him. It was a small house with a small Mexican flag next to the doorbell, which Javi rang.

A man and woman opened the door. Both stared in shock.

_"¿Puedo hablar con Fele?"_ asked Chicharito.

A little boy appeared behind his parents. "You speak Spanish!"

"What else would a _tapatío_ speak?" The footballer smiled. "My name's Javier."

"No, it's Chicharito!" corrected Fele's father. "Our only hope for Russia!"

"We're not that bad off," argued Fele's mother. "I wouldn't say our only hope - just our biggest hope."

Fele didn't seem to process the fact that his newfound compatriot was very, very, very, very famous. He just hugged the young man's legs tightly. _"¡Mi amigo!"_

And indeed, Chicharito and Fele became friends, speaking lots of Spanish and remembering Mexico fondly.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by my cousin and her husband, who are diplomats with the US State Department. While stationed in Mexico, they adopted a cat named Phil. Phil and his parents spent the past year in Washington D.C., preparing for a two-year assignment in Jerusalem. A few weeks ago, just as final preparations were underway for the move to Israel, Phil suddenly fell ill, and he had to be put down. We miss him very much.


End file.
